


Take Me to Flavor Town

by DeathFraud



Category: South Park
Genre: College AU, High School AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4392068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathFraud/pseuds/DeathFraud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle has been reclusive since school had ended. He gets invited to go to a party that Stan's hosting, and manages to get drunk off his ass with none other than Eric Cartman. Sure, Cartman's mellowed out a little, but he's really exactly the same. His parents are pressuring him to do well on the college entrance exam, but he fails due to extreme stress and something Cartman had told him the morning after the party. Kyle can't even bare the thought of it, but Cartman could be right and have him all figured out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me to Flavor Town

It was a fairly normal morning for Kyle Broflovski, getting up out of bed, having an all too Kosher breakfast, and then straight back to his room. His Senior Summer had been a drag, and he just wanted it to end so that he could go back to his usual school schedule. It was going to be a while, considering that he was only one week into summer.

 

Stan had invited him to go to a party and it wasn't like the redhead could just turn it down. He was in a position where he had no choice but to go. Even Kenny had texted him and asked him to go. Kyle had really disconnected from all of his friends, and that was including Stan. He usually slept all day in his room, or was nose deep in a book. But, tonight would be different. And not in a good way.

 

After a painstakingly awful, once again all too Kosher, dinner with his family, he got ready to go, not at all enthusiastically. Apparently everyone was going to be at this party. He wore a simple t-shirt with a jacket, and jeans. He looked and felt like complete shit and he wasn't at all interested in even going. He left and made his way to Stan's house, feeling a bit of anxiety step in. As long as _he_ wasn't there.

 

Stan had the entire house to himself, and even though Kyle was there fairly early, it looked trashed. "Hey," he greeted with a half smile. Stan grinned and hugged his best friend, a bit too tightly for Kyle's taste.

 

"How've you been, dude?" Stan asked, playfully punching the other's shoulder. Kyle shrugged.

 

"I don't know, I've been like I've always been," he answered. Stan opened his mouth to reply, but someone else had arrived and he had to rush to greet them.

 

It wasn't long before everyone was inside and partying. There was loud music blaring, definitely club music. Stan was plastered to Wendy the entire time, so there was no need for Kyle to even be there. The amount of booze was overwhelming, and the redhead was not going to drink. He found a semi-quiet spot on the stairs and sat there, absentmindedly thinking about how much this party sucked. The music, the making out, the grinding that could be considered dry humping, the harsh lighting -- it all sucked.

 

"No way! _Kahl_!" he was brought of his thoughts by a familiar, migraine-inducing voice. Kyle turned, sighing deeply, to see an all too calm looking Eric Cartman holding two bottles of beer. Shit.

 

"Yeah, I'm here," he replied, with a disinterested half smile, "Are those both for you?"

 

"Neither of them are for me, Jew. These are for Craig... I'm on beer run," he replied, his insult having no real sting to it. It was habit for the brunette to insult the other. At this point, it was more like tradition.

 

"It sounds like they don't really want you around," he observed, "What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? You don't look okay."

 

"I guess you didn't hear yet," Eric said, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

 

"What happened?" the redhead asked, interested to know, "Cartman, are you alright?"

 

"My mom's in jail," he answered blankly. It wasn't a shock. Kyle remembered Cartman talking about his mom's drug abuse all throughout high school, and it seemed like it finally bit her in the ass.

 

"That sucks," Kyle couldn't give any less fucks about Eric's piddly ass problems, "Hey, fatass, after that beer run, you should come sit with me." He really hated the idea of sitting with him, but he looked like a fucking loser sitting all by himself.

 

"Sure," he replied, his usual cocky returning to his face as he winked at the redhead and walked away. Kyle had noticed that Eric had really mellowed out in high school. Sure he was still a huge dick, but he was far more tolerable.

 

Sure enough, he came back a few minutes later, sitting by the smaller boy. "You don't drink, do you?" he asked, "I think tonight's the night to start. All these years and Stan still hasn't realized that you love him, huh?" White hot fury shot through the redhead and he looked shocked at the brunette's words.

 

"Fuck you, Cartman!" he hissed, "And for your information, I've moved on... I moved on a long time ago, so shut the fuck up. You said that you'd never speak of _it_ again," This earned a giggle from the larger male.

 

"I was just joking," he recovered, running a hand through his hair.

 

"Well, I'm fucking sick of your shit jokes," he hissed, turning away from the other.

 

"Yeah, yeah," Eric snorted, "So they tell me... Hey, Stan's got a bonfire going outside. We should make s'mores."

 

"Always obsessed with the food part of parties, huh?" Kyle sighed, glancing at Cartman. He shrugged.

 

"Are you going to make s'mores with me or what? Not like Stan cares about you sitting up here alone,"

 

"I didn't even want to come! And Stan can't leave Wendy to even see me! And Kenny, I haven't even seen Kenny... Fuck! You're the only one who's even paying attention to me! Fuck you, Cartman..." he belted out at his only companion.

 

"Shit, dude... Sorry," Eric paused, "But what about the s'mores?"

 

"Fuck you and your s'mores... Let's go, fatass," he mumbled, jumping up from his seat and leading Eric out to the backyard.

 

Sure enough, a raging bonfire was roaring. Kyle spotted Kenny making out with some girl, and he wasn't going to try to talk to the blonde. He glanced at Eric, who rolled his eyes in response. There was a picnic table covered in the ingredients to make s'mores. There were even sticks for roasting marshmallows. Eric picked one and hit the redhead with it, laughing his familiar laugh. Kyle almost cringed.

 

" _Fuck you_ ," the redhead growled, which only prompted the brunette to hit his companion once more, "Cartman, I fucking swear!" Kyle whipped around to face the other, hitting him back.

 

"Fucking Jew," he complained, rubbing his arm where the stick had hit.

 

"You're the one who started it, you fat fuck," he hissed back. It suddenly felt like they were younger again. After they were in middle school, they had all drifted apart. Kyle hadn't seen Eric since graduation, and before that, he hadn't seen him for months. Kyle was busy studying most of the time, and Stan was popular as ever, the star of the football team. Kenny was God knows where doing God knows what... It was admittedly nice to see the other again.

 

They found a spot by the fire, and began to roast their marshmallows. They were silent, both lost in their own thoughts. Eric had been more of a recluse these past few years. He stayed home a lot, doing housework his mother never did, or at work. Life had gotten hard, and the only one who really checked on him periodically was Kenny. It was Eric who broke the silence. "Have you been doing alright?" he asked.

 

"I guess," he replied, "And you?"

 

"We're all fucked up some other way," Eric paused, turning his stick in hand, "I've been struggling, honestly. Not many kids have to parent their own parents."

 

"Are you stressed out, asswipe?" Kyle asked, finding the sincerity of Eric's words troubling.

 

"Yeah," he replied, "There's Molly here, and I'm so fucking uncomfortable. My mom was a crackwhore, but she popped pills. I don't know, this is fucking gay."

 

"You're the one who needs a drink," the redhead replied, removing the marshmallow from the fire. Eric did the same, shrugging.

 

"I'll do a few shots if you do them with me," he replied, leading his companion to the picnic table. They built their s’mores, Kyle overthinking everything.

 

"Sure." he muttered, eating the delicious mix of hot marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker, "These are fucking good." Eric nodded, almost scarfing his down. Had he not been eating? Kyle took silent note, deciding not to bring anything up. This was Cartman, and there was no point in actually giving a shit.

 

"You should come back to my place after this," he offered.

 

"And why would I want to do that?"

 

"Your mom's going to kill you if you come home smelling of alcohol. I can hear her already, _‘Kyle, what have you been doing, young man? It’s three in the morning and you smell like booze!’_ " Eric’s fake Jersey accent was almost perfect, and Kyle was a bit surprised at the accuracy of the words.

 

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, letting the other lead him back inside Stan's house. Everyone seemed to be even more degenerate by the time the pair had re-entered.

 

The amount of tits and ass showing had definitely increased. Kyle was even more uncomfortable, but Eric looked stoic about it, not bothering to worry about it. He didn't even glance. They approached the kitchen counter that was littered with bottles upon bottles of beer, vodka, rum, and everything in between. Eric found a bottle of Rumchata, and poured it into two shot glasses, handing one to the redhead.

 

"Ready?" the brunette asked. Kyle nodded, taking the shot as soon as Eric did. It did taste pretty good, but felt awful sliding down his hot throat. He had never really drank before, and decided two more shots would be enough for him. "Feel better?" Eric asked.

 

"I think I need two more," Kyle replied. After the second shot, Kyle was feeling good.

 

"More?" Eric asked. Kyle nodded, grinning. He started dancing to the music, though he had no rhythm. The brunette laughed, pouring more shots. After the sixth shot, Kyle pulled the brunette to the dancefloor. The song that was playing had a good beat, and the alcohol made it easier to dance. Never did he think that he would be dancing with Eric Cartman.

 

"Alcohol lowers your inhibitions," Eric stated, rolling his eyes at his redhead friend. He, himself was arguably the best dancer in this whole awful town.

 

"Like yours could go any lower," Kyle shot back, letting the alcohol get to his head, "I need another shot!"

 

"No you don't, you're fucking drunk."

 

"Fuck you, Cartman," the redhead hissed, leaving his side to pour himself more shots. Eric followed out of obligation. Kyle took another shot. And another. And then another. Eric forcibly stopped his friend from taking any more shots, grabbing his arm.

 

"Dude, we should leave..." Eric suggested, not liking the way Kyle looked.

 

"No, no, I'm fine!" he yelped, though he felt sicker than hell. Stan approached them, for the first time, and he was pretty drunk as well.

 

"Holy shit, Kyle's wasted..." Stan laughed, hugging his friend. The redhead let the hug linger a bit too long. "Kyle, go home. Wendy will fuckin' drive you guys..."

 

After about five minutes of protesting, Eric forcibly pushed Kyle into Wendy's car, sitting in the backseat with him. Wendy looked more bitchy than ever.

 

"Stan made you his chauffeur, huh?" Eric joked. She shot him a death stare, not even responding.

 

"We're going to _Eric's!_ " Kyle yelled out, amidst a plethora of odd giggles and snorts. He was heavily leaning on Eric, in a drunken stupor. The brunette was actually worried, and he wanted to just get the redhead to bed. It was a rare thing to see Eric Cartman care about anyone or anything, but this was important. He really did care about Kyle, though he wouldn't dare share that with anyone. The only one who knew was Butters, and thank _God_ that he was grounded and couldn't go to the party.

 

"Cartman, do you still live...?" the noirette's voice faded, as she didn't want to offend the other male. Wendy liked to think she was an actually good person.

 

"Yeah, same house..." he stated, looking down at the drunken Jewish boy clinging to him. Something had changed, and Kyle wasn't laughing anymore. He almost looked scared.

 

"Goodnight, guys..." Wendy called out, pulling into Eric's driveway. The brunette helped the other out and into his house, nodding his thanks at Wendy.

 

"Fucker, you're so fuckin' drunk. What the _hell_ is wrong?" Eric hissed in his ear, but was interrupted by an awful sounding gag. Kyle quickly stumbled into Eric's bathroom, close to puking. The redhead starting to puke, and boy did he puke a lot. Eric bent down next to him, and gently rubbed his back. He was nervous, but didn't say anything.

 

"I feel like shit, Cartman..." he whispered, "What the fuck happened?" Kyle was suddenly sober, his headache intense.

 

Eric chuckled, "Nothing that you'll regret. You just got fucking wasted and then puked it all up." Kyle groaned from his spot face down in the toilet. The brunette helped Kyle stand up and get into his room. He kicked off his shoes and threw off his jacket, collapsing on Eric's bed.

 

"I never thought I'd see your stupid ass room again," he stated honestly, his words still slurred. Eric stripped out of his sweatshirt, favoring a t-shirt and boxers to sleep in.

 

"Yeah, nothing's really changed," he replied, suddenly engrossed in old as balls Mr. Kitty who had just walked into the room. He gently petted the cat, shuddering at the feel of the tumors on the cat's skin. Mr. Kitty let out a little groan of a meow and Eric frowned. He laid next to the redhead and sighed deeply. "I don't have the heart to put him down..."

 

"Shit dude, I can't believe he's still alive..." Kyle mumbled, wrapping himself up in Eric's warm comforter, "You have to get me home tomorrow before my parents get up..."

 

"How fucking early, Jew?"

 

"Mm. Before six thirty."

 

"Jesus Christ. _Fine_ ," he growled, eyeing up the half asleep redhead.

 

"Hey, Cartman?"

 

"What?"

 

"Thank you," Kyle whispered, falling into a dreamless sleep. Eric sighed, not reading into the words too much. He turned off the beside lamp, finding himself restless.

 

Kyle looked so cute and relaxed when he slept. Eric didn't mean to stare, but it just kind of happened. He was restless.

 

Kyle woke up to the weirdest sight. He was in Eric Cartman's bedroom, and there he was, with his window open, cigarette clutched between his plump lips, playing the ukulele.

 

"What the fuck?" Kyle groaned, sitting up. _Too_ fast, holy shit. His head was pounding, and he held a hand up to rub his temples. Cartman paused his playing, taking one last drag and tossing it out the window.

 

"Good morning, _Kahl~_ ," he drawled, his fingers finding the chords he was playing and resuming.

 

"Is that fucking Twenty One Pilots? Dude, it's too early. Let me sleep."

 

"I have ten minutes to get you home," he replied, "Cigarette?"

 

"No, I don't fucking smoke."

 

"I only smoke when I'm stressed."

 

"So you've been smoking a lot?"

 

"Shut up, Jew. Get up."

 

Several minutes later, Kyle stumbled into his house, finding his bed and dropping down onto it. "Cartman,"

 

"What?" the larger male asked.

 

"Stay," Kyle commanded.

 

This was going to be a long ass morning.

 


End file.
